


Gallery clash

by kiecho



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Artist AU, M/M, Slow Build, may may not turn into porn, shrugs, will tag later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-08 03:54:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10377402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiecho/pseuds/kiecho
Summary: Mako is a painter who works behind his alias 'Roadhog'





	

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written a fic in a long time. I'm sorry for the upcoming slow pace and all the typos. I'd be glad if you noted me of any typos or weird words in here. Thank you and please enjoy.

Mako wasn't excited. There was a reason he didn't want to show his face to the public.The people wouldn't enjoy his works if they knew who made it. He picked his phone from his pocket to check the time and sighed. It was time to go. He put it back and took last look in the mirror and he felt like looking at a stranger. Fine tailored woolen jacket over the fitting suit, scarf around his neck and shiny freshly polished shoes. He looked like one of the damn boring businessmen if it wasn't for the old scars on his face and the hair that laid lazily down to his shoulders. Snorting at his image Mako placed his sunglasses on and left his apartment.

Weather was good. It was October and still warm as sun was just setting. It would be a lot colder later that night. There was a car parked in front  
of Mako's apartment and he lumbered towards it. In his mind he cursed the damned tin can that he couldn't fit in comfortably and it's owner, his  
manager. She knew he didn't fit or like the car so she must have taken it just to annoy him.

"Good evening Mr. Rutledge." she greeted in her forced cheerful tone as Mako opened the passengers door and took a seat. He grunted in response and slammed the door closed with little too much power for the managers liking, enjoying the sneer it mustered from her.  
"It's great that you finally decided to come to the vernissage for once" she continued while driving to their destination. "As you know people have been very curious about you."  
Mako already knew where she was going with this. It was the usual issue between them and every time it ended the same.  
"No."  
"But you could make interviews and -"  
"I will not step out to public!" he roared. He was getting tired of the subject.  
She turned slightly pale and was gripping the wheel, her knuckles white. Mako would feel bad for frightening her but she was his manager only for money. Arranging interviews for him would bring her more. Neither of them even liked each other.  
Rest of the brief drive went in silence.

They arrived at the gallery located on a busy street. The exhibition would be officially open only tomorrow so there wouldn't be too many people in. Mostly other artists, critics and journalists. Thanks to the curious passerbys who wandered in Mako felt at ease. The journalists would concentrate on artists they knew by name and face. They only made small surveys to visitors. Taking the jacket and scarf off Mako noticed group of younger people. There were barely 10 but they made enough noise to fill the whole space. Well, him. A lanky person with wild blonde hair, his head bobbing a feet higher than rest of them in the group. His shrilling laughing reminded Mako of hyenas in nature documentaries.

Grabbing a glass of vine Mako went to take a stroll thru gallery. There were multiple works from each artists. He recalled his manager mentioning 12 artists in total this time. He went first to the section with his paintings to see if it was all well set up. Stepping to the room in the far back he noticed there was sculptures placed in same space with him as well. He'd have time to look at them after checking that the paintings were hang straight and the lighting was right. Nothing seemed to be out of order so he turned to look at the sculptured. He wasn't sure what he was looking at first.  
The sculptures seemed very out of balance and roughly putt together from pieces of metal and wires. Upon observing Mako noticed the metal pieces were mostly from vehicles and everything seemed to be paint over with spray paint. Main color was orange but there was lots of yellow too, crude smiley faces with cross eyes littered on every piece. A trademark perhaps? Staring at the sculptures he couldn't make out what they were supposed to present, some sort of abstract art was his wildest guess. He was about to move on when a small red dot caught hie eye. A button with "push me" on it. He couldn't believe the artist was wishing his art to be touched during exhibition, especially since it looked like it would fall from light touch. Mako glanced around and pressed the button. For a moment nothing happened and Mako was wondering if it even worked or if artist put the button in there just for fun, but then there was quiet swirling sound as some of the pieces started to slowly move around. With caution Mako took step back as the moving parts seemed to topple the sculpture at any moment. But it never did.The whole sculpture gently swayed as the weight shifted. Mako noticed how the wires were poking from here and there.

After a while the pieces settled back to their original position. Mako stared in awe. He moved to next one noticing how the edges of pieces were tattered from rust. He found small red switch ("flick me") and was about to touch it as he heard loud voices coming from next room. The group of youngsters came in the room and took over around the sculptures. Mako started to move out of the packed room.  
"As ya can see it's just junk. Nothing fancy or artsy and has no place in here with all the real art." The lanky blonde was walking around the room motioning towards the sculptures."Some garbage that belongs to dumb rather than in a fine gallery right here." He finished with high pinched giggle while flicking switch on one of sculptures.  
Mako couldn't believe this. Some people having the nerve to come to exhibition to mock some of the works. True it wasn't the most usual type or style but this was too much. his fists were balling up to fists as the rage build up in his chest. He couldn't take it. He needed peace and quiet.


End file.
